General POV
Something was coming.
Shakespeare didn't know what it was, but she could feel it. Call it instinct, call it woman's intuition. But whatever it was, it was going to be big.
With a bounce in her step, Shakespeare made her way to the distribution apparatus. That is, until she ran into somebody.
"Oomf!" she exclaimed, stumbling.
"Sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going!" someone replied, pulling her up.
"No, no. My fault. I had my head in the clouds," she apologized. He grinned at her, and she blushed. It was a boy about her age, tall and lanky, with curly, golden-brown hair and tan skin. "Uh, I gotta get my papes," she stammered. He tipped his hat to her, and she hurried off.
Get your head out of the clouds, Shakespeare! she berated herself, after losing yet another customer to the pretty blonde across the road. Shakespeare shot her a glare. Her good looks and flirtatious smile were dragging in gentlemen of all ages.
Shakespeare struggled, but she still managed to sell all her papers by nightfall. Her stomach was growling, but she'd have to nick some bread. She didn't have enough to pay for board and food. She reached for a loaf of bread, grabbed it, and took off running, ignoring the shouts of the baker.
She skidded to a halt when she came to Delancey street. It was lit up with flames. The trolley strikers had lit a trolley on fire, and they were beating up a couple of guys who probably didn't join. The cops showed up, and tried to subdue the riot, but suddenly shots sounded.
When Shakespeare realized they were shooting guns, she turned to run home, but a single shot sounded, and it seemed to deafen every other sound. Gasping, Shakespeare clapped a hand to her stomach. Drawing it away, she saw that her palm was stained with blood.
The lifeless body of Lisa "Shakespeare" Johnson fell to the ground.